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  “Children, yes,” agreed Thomas, “but responsible children.”

  “That’s what scares me. It is my job to make sure that’s what they are.”

  “You’re doing fine.”

  “But I need to—to find ways to teach them. Encourage them. Just like Mama did with me.”

  Thomas let a hand drop to her shoulder. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Angie,” he cautioned. “Don’t set the standards impossibly high. You’re human, too, you know.”

  Angela was very aware of that as she picked up the lamp to light her way to her bedroom. Thomas had turned to bolt the door behind them. In the semidarkness he looked like her pa standing there. She had never noticed the likeness before. Her pa would be so proud. So proud of his son. But Thomas had been almost raised before they had lost their parents. If only—if only she could bring the others up to deserve family pride, too. If only they would grow up to be responsible members of society. If only they grew up to love God and belong to His family…

  Chapter Four

  Neighbors

  There had been disagreement among the people in the community as to what should be done with the Peterson children when they lost their parents. The Blackwells, to the north of the Peterson farm, had never been blessed with a family of their own, but that did not prevent Mrs. Blackwell from expressing very decided opinions about the children.

  “They need caring for,” she stated, “by adults who are responsible.” She suggested that the children be divided among district families and that she and her husband take Sara and Derek. When Thomas stated firmly that they had no intention of parcelling the children out here and there, Mrs. Blackwell changed her mind as to what should be done.

  “Iffen they are to be responsible citizens,” she maintained, “then they need to do their own caring. I don’t plan to be a caterin’ to ’em.”

  And she didn’t.

  “No use fussin’ over ’em. They’ve made them their jam. Now let ’em eat it.”

  But Mr. Blackwell apparently didn’t share his wife’s view. On occasion he was seen delivering a sack of seed potatoes to the Petersons or making sure they had enough coal in the bin.

  The Petersons’ closest neighbor was a sour man who lived on his own. From outward appearances, he may not even have known the Peterson family existed, or that they were left on their own. He was not old—nor was he young. His face was weathered from being outdoors riding herd on his cattle or supervising maintenance and repairs on his property. He was not popular in the neighborhood, but no one spoke of it much. He was far too rich and powerful for anyone to risk getting on his bad side. Only his hired hand, Charlie, who acted as foreman of the spread, seemed able to get along with the crusty Mr. Stratton. Angela wondered if perhaps it was because Charlie was the only one who had known his boss long enough to be aware of the circumstances that had shaped him.

  “Oh, he ain’t so bad as all thet,” Charlie would say. “He barks a lot, but I ain’t seen him bite yet.”

  Charlie, in his own quiet way, was more help to the Peterson youngsters than anyone else in the neighborhood. In the evenings, after completing his daily rounds, he would slip over to their house. Sometimes he brought things from town, sometimes he gave hints as to how Thomas should plant or plow. Sometimes he just came to chat and to see that everything was going all right. Those first years would have been awfully difficult without Charlie.

  The pastor was supportive—but he was a very busy man. He shouldered the burdens of the congregation as well as his own young family.

  The Reverend Merrifield had lost his first wife and then married again, a fine widow with a family of her own. The new marriage had given them a family of eight. His Roger, Ernest, and Lucy, and her Peter, Pauline, and Perry. To that number had been added little Priscilla and Pearl. In addition to the confusion of so many in one household, there was also a bit of friction between the oldest sons. One of the conflicts, unknown to Angela, involved her. Both boys spent a good deal of time lobbying for position to get a bit of her attention. Roger was eighteen and Peter seventeen. Most folks thought they should have been out on their own by now, providing the family with income, but they lived at home, doing only odd jobs here and there as they were able to find them in town.

  There were families in the church who expressed concern about the Petersons. The Conroys, who were neighboring farmers to the west, spoke frequently about their intentions to give a hand here and there. Occasionally they did, but their own field work and gardens took so much time that little was left for the Petersons. They did, however, faithfully remember the children in their daily prayers. The Conroys had a family of their own to consider. Hazel, nineteen, was a friendly enough girl, but being older than Angela, she had always seemed to feel a bit superior as well, and now that she was making preparations for her coming marriage, she acted queenly indeed. Roberta was Angela’s age and might have been a real companion had she not been severely handicapped because of a serious case of measles at age three. Angela would gladly have offered her friendship, but Roberta preferred to play with young children. Ingrid and Bertha Conroy were good friends of Louise and Sara, wanting to spend more time at one another’s houses than their own.

  The Sommerses also attended the local church, and their daughter, Trudie, was Angela’s age. It was accepted by the church members that Trudie was Angela’s best friend, but the truth was, Angela was not sure about Trudie. At times Trudie gushed and fussed, at other times she seemed to pass Angela by without even a nod of acknowledgement. Trudie tended to be peacock-proud, tossing her reddish mane with snobbish abandon, and about as flighty as a barn swallow. She was always getting herself into some kind of tizzy about something. But the church folk were often heard to say with deep feeling, “It’s so nice that Angela has Trudie.”

  Angela tried to be friendly to Trudie. After all, she was the only girl her own age with whom to associate. And Angela was in need of an understanding companion. Yet she hesitated to share anything important with Trudie. She was never sure that her secret thoughts or feelings would be kept secret for long.

  The Sommerses had three other children. Claude, thirteen, was Derek’s age, and was kind and considerate. Angela regarded Claude as one of the finest young boys she knew and was happy to encourage friendship between him and her little brother. But for reasons Angela could not determine, Derek held himself back from forming close friendships.

  Then there were Baxter, nine, and Wylie, eight. Sara was constantly being teased and taunted by the school children about one or the other, so Baxter and Wylie were off limits as a topic of conversation in the Peterson household.

  The dearest and closest friends of the Peterson family were the Andrewses. Mr. Andrews operated the town mercantile, the store where Angela did the family shopping. He was a soft-spoken man, as good at living out his religion as declaring it. There were few people who could have found anything disparaging to say about Mr. Andrews—they would have needed to embellish it with untruths. He was not interfering, but each member of the Peterson family knew that if ever a need arose, Mr. Andrews was the man to whom they should go.

  Mrs. Andrews was a motherly woman who had little to say but whose smile welcomed everyone. And her instincts seemed always to be right. She passed out cookies and hugs with abandon. Even Thomas, big and strapping as he was, accepted his share, and Angela felt that some of her days were made endurable because of the embrace of the kind woman.

  The Andrews family had not escaped sorrow. Their daughter Emma had been Angela’s best friend before the girl had drowned in a tragic accident when the girls were nine. Perhaps that was another reason Mrs. Andrews used any occasion to hold Angela close for a moment.

  There were three others in the family. Frankie, their youngest, was nine, and Agnes a grown-up twelve, but of the Andrews family it was Thane who was the dearest friend of the Petersons.

  Thane was the same age as Thomas, and the two boys were as close as brothers. They had spent much of their
earlier years fishing or hiking together. Angela remembered many times they had stayed at the other’s house. It was Thane with Thomas or Thomas with Thane. But Karl Peterson’s sudden death changed that greatly. Thomas was no longer free to be a carefree lad, off on nature hikes or overnight campouts. In that instant he became a farmer, responsible for the welfare of a family. So now it was up to Thane to come their way—and he did—often—bringing sacks of penny candy, a bright red “spinner” for fishing, or new hair ribbons for the girls tucked in his pocket.

  And so life went on for the Peterson children, even though some days were heavy with sorrow and others weighted with responsibility. Although the neighbors occasionally reached out a loving or helping hand, for the most part the young people were assumed to be capable of caring for themselves.

  Chapter Five

  Party

  “Angela, wait.”

  Angela recognized the voice of Trudie Sommers. She turned and pushed back her bonnet to wait for her friend.

  The girl was running toward Angela, skirts and ribbons flying out behind her.

  “Don’t run,” called Angela. “It’s too hot. I’ll wait.”

  Trudie slowed to a walk, but at a brisk, excited pace.

  Angela leaned over and put her parcel of groceries on the grass. Then she straightened again and brushed curls of blond hair from her face.

  “I thought I’d missed you,” gasped Trudie, finally reaching Angela. “Mrs. Layton said you would be halfway home.”

  Angela laughed. “I should have been—but I stopped to see the new Willis baby.”

  “Isn’t she a darling?” said Trudie somewhat distractedly.

  “‘She’ is a ‘he.’” Angela smiled.

  “Oh yes, well,” Trudie replied, then quickly changed the subject. “I wanted to let you know that I am having a party on Saturday night.”

  “A party?” Angela couldn’t remember when she had last been to a party.

  “I’d like you to come,” Trudie hurried to say.

  “What kind of a party?” asked Angela.

  “Just some friends. We’ll play party games and—and eat,” she laughed.

  It sounded wonderful to Angela. With all her heart she wished she could go.

  “I’d love to but—”

  “No buts,” cut in Trudie. “Everyone thinks you need to get out and have a little fun. You’re only seventeen, you know. Not seventy.”

  “Yes, but—” Angela stopped. Trudie was right. She did need a little fun. She wondered if she even knew how to have fun anymore.

  “I’ll see if Thomas will stay with the kids,” she said, but then noticed the disappointed expression on Trudie’s face.

  “I was hoping Thomas would be able to come, too,” Trudie said.

  Angela was quick to sense the circumstances. Perhaps Thomas was the real target of the invitation. She had seen a number of young women from town watching Thomas. Some were quite bold in their nods and smiles. Angela felt sure that her mama would not have approved of such forwardness.

  “I’ll see,” Angela promised. “I’ll talk it over with Thomas.”

  Trudie’s lips formed a smile again. “Good,” she responded. “I’ll be expecting you.” She turned to leave, and Angela hoisted the heavy package and headed toward home.

  All the way Angela thought about the invitation. She couldn’t remember the last time she and Thomas had been to a party. She wondered if Thomas would accept. He had already taken one afternoon from his work to go fishing with Derek.

  “I wonder if Thomas will agree,” mused Angela. “And if he does, what will we do with the children?”

  The rest of the day was busy for Angela. She forgot about the party until after the children were tucked into bed for the night. As she and Thomas spent a few minutes on the veranda before retiring, she remembered the invitation.

  “Oh, I ’most forgot,” Angela began. “We had an invitation to a party today.”

  Thomas laughed.

  “It’s Saturday night. Just neighborhood friends. Games and food.”

  Thomas chuckled again. “What makes folks think we have time for partying?” he asked.

  “It would be fun to go,” Angela ventured.

  “You can go if you want to,” Thomas said quickly.

  “You won’t go?”

  “I’m not much into partying,” he replied.

  “How do you know?” asked Angela. “I don’t remember you trying it.”

  Thomas just shrugged.

  “Trudie said—” Angela saw Thomas’s head lift and knew he was waiting for her to go on.

  “Trudie said that she hoped you would be able to come, too.”

  Thomas shrugged again, but Angela noticed something different about the movement. He was no longer laughing. He seemed to be considering the invitation.

  “Will you?” asked Angela.

  “Might not hurt—this once,” responded Thomas lightly.

  “What will we do with the kids?”

  Thomas looked surprised at the mention of the children. After a few moments of thought he responded. “Guess it wouldn’t hurt none for them to stay alone for a few hours. After all, they aren’t babies anymore. You and I were almost running things by the time we were their age.”

  The suggestion troubled Angela. She found it hard to believe that the children were old enough to be left alone. Still, she must not coddle them, she reasoned. Papa had always been one to give added responsibility as age increased.

  “Maybe so—if we aren’t gone too long,” she said hesitantly.

  And so it was decided that Thomas and Angela would accept the invitation to the Sommerses’ party. They gave careful instructions to the three children about what would be expected of them “on their own.”

  “Why can’t I go?” fussed Louise.

  “The party is for—for older people,” responded Angela, trying to keep her voice firm yet gentle.

  “Well, I don’t think it’s fair,” Louise continued, but a stern look from Thomas made her fall silent.

  “I’ll have a party for some of your friends,” Angela put in quickly. “I promise. We’ll plan it together.”

  “When?” asked Louise.

  “Just as soon as the garden is planted,” replied Angela.

  “Sure—you just want me to help with the garden,” Louise accused.

  “You always help with the garden,” Angela returned evenly.

  “Well, you want me to do more. More than my rightful share. You think that I’ll—”

  “Louise,” said Thomas sternly, and Louise left the room before saying anymore.

  Angela looked at Thomas. “Let her go,” she whispered. “She’s having a hard time growing up. I—I just don’t know quite how to help her.”

  ———

  When the night of the party arrived Angela held her breath in case Thomas backed out at the last minute, but he didn’t. Angela noticed his fussing over his shoes and hair. He spent more time before the kitchen basin slicking down his wayward cowlick than Angela spent pinning up her own tresses.

  Angela tried not to let him see that she was noticing his lengthy grooming, but she did wonder about it.

  They walked the road together and cut across the neighbors’ field to speed their progress. Thomas had a hard time slowing his stride to accommodate his sister. Angela had never seen him so eager before.

  Perhaps he has been missing fun, she reasoned, wondering why he had never shared with her how he felt.

  Trudie met them at the gate. She reached a hand to Angela, but it was Thomas who got her full attention.

  “I’m so glad you could come,” she said, her voice soft and warm, and Angela felt a funny little prick of fear running up her spine.

  Trudie out to win Thomas? Could it be? It was Thomas she wanted all along, Angela suddenly realized. She didn’t care about me at all. She just wanted me to get Thomas here.

  Angela felt betrayed. Rejected. And terribly annoyed with Trudie—even with Thomas. T
homas was smiling back at Trudie. He even allowed her to take his arm and draw him toward the circle of neighborhood friends. Angela seemed to have been forgotten. It occurred to her that she could just hoist her skirts above the dust of the roadway and make her way directly back home. She was about to do so when she felt someone take hold of her arm. She was hardly in the mood to be civil, much less friendly. Who else besides Trudie might treat her as if she were some mindless dolt—like Thomas suddenly seemed to have become?

  “Glad you could come,” said a voice at her side, and Angela recognized it immediately. It’s just Thane, she thought, relieved.

  “Thank you,” she said, but her troubled thoughts made it difficult to control her voice.

  She didn’t try to pull her arm away, though. If Thomas wasn’t planning to be with her it would be a comfort to have Thane nearby.

  Her eyes still followed Trudie and Thomas. Trudie’s silly laugh floated across the yard, and she was hanging on to Thomas’s arm as though her life depended on it. The part that bothered Angela was that Thomas did not seem to object.

  What if Trudie was successful in wooing Thomas? Who would run the farm? Help raise the children? Angela cast a nervous look at the bubbling girl. Surely Thomas would see through the ploy, would let Trudie know in no uncertain terms that he was not interested.

  But Thomas was still smiling at Trudie and responding to her playful glances with animated conversation.

  Thane carefully guided Angela toward a small group of young people. Some of them were from church, and before Angela had time to think further about her concerns, she was included in the circle and made to feel welcome. Now and then throughout the evening she stole a glance at Thomas. Each time, Trudie was not far from his side. Angela tried to push aside the nagging fear. Thomas belonged to the family. He was hers. Had always been hers. They had been together ever since their pa and ma had left them. They bolstered each other, encouraged each other, cheered each other. If she should lose Thomas, she wasn’t sure she would be able to carry on.